


When He Sleeps At All

by crackleviolet



Series: Violets are Blue [2]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Fantasizing, Masturbation, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 01:10:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10820577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackleviolet/pseuds/crackleviolet
Summary: V masturbates to the idea of Jumin and MC. That's it. That's the fic.(or is it)





	When He Sleeps At All

**Author's Note:**

> This is a precursor to poly, so Jumin and MC are in a relationship but that's...not the focus here.

He sleeps naked when he sleeps at all; a habit from another place when he owned fewer clothes. He has planned apologies that have never seen the break of day and treated himself to nightclothes that have never graced his skin, though the habit remains unbroken and each night remains the same.

That knowledge, as a matter of fact, is what leaves him staring at the ceiling on this evening in particular. For some reason, though he does not remember why, it occurred to him that no one has ever shared his bed. And, in truth, now he wishes he had not thought if it. Now he cannot stop thinking about the fact that he is twenty seven years old with no one who knows him so completely that such a mental image would not take them by surprise.

Once he believed that Rika would rest her head on the pillow next to his. He even grew so concerned over the idea of them arguing over who would sleep on which side that he pushed his bed into the middle of the room, never knowing if or when such a debate should ever occur. And now, of course, he knows it never will. His bed still sits in the middle of the room, though, and it’s something of a comfort to know that she wasn’t the only one he imagined there.

At varying points he has considered Jumin there too; dark hair across the pillow and muttered complaints about how much softer the sheets would be if they were Egyptian cotton. And in his imagination sometimes he is roguish, reaching out to touch his lips before the complaint crosses them. A small smirk. A kiss to the forehead. The scent of amber lingering in his hair.

“You’re soft too.”

And he knows Jumin has never slept there and it lies only in his imagination, but he finds himself thinking of it more lately. 

He imagines her too; the girl from the apartment. He’s not sure why she haunts him so, but sometimes he sees her there, running her fingers through his hair and sighing in a winsome manner.

He knows it’s odd to imagine her. He has yet to clearly see her face or know her character and much of what he sees when he thinks of her are blanks he filled in in his imagination. He’s well aware it likely says something less than flattering about him that when he thinks of her in a singular fashion, he rests his head into her hand and smiles as she tells him he is wonderful.

He knows for certain it says nothing good of him that recently all he can think about is them fucking next to him; Jumin with his head against the pillows, moaning as the strange Nari rides his cock. He has called Jumin’s phone before, only for Nari to answer, her tone breathy and relaxed, with no other conclusion for him to come to. And Jihyun does not wish to consider the implications of his own wandering imagination. Not only did he imagine it, after all, but he enjoyed it enough to return.

He enjoys the mental image of Nari’s arching back, heavy breaths and curved breasts, all littered with small pink bruises. Of Jumin’s hair splayed against the pillows as he grips her thighs.

And if he’s completely honest, he enjoys how hard it leaves him. He does not even complain about the fact that it leaves him awake on this evening in particular.

He starts off slow; gently taking his dick into his hand while it still grows firm, only to gasp when he forms a fist. Those first few pumps to his shaft are agonisingly slow and the room is silent but for the sound of his own ragged breathing. He squeezes his eyes shut and concentrates on the mental image of Jumin biting his bottom lip; of his own moment of impulsiveness. Of reaching out to kiss his lips before the dream is over.

For a moment, he wonders if this is how Jumin likes to be touched. If he even enjoys this sort of thing. As friends go, they are open books, but it’s been many years since it seemed appropriate to discuss their bodies, a fact that he settles on only later, when his mind is no longer a fog of arousal.

He increases his pace at the mental image of the girl from the apartment stroking her hands across Jumin’s chest, knowing that he wants to be her and to fuck her all in the same instant. He wants her to sing his praises as her tongue dances across his cock and he moans at a jolt of pleasure traveling through his body that makes his toes curl and his hips shudder. His breath catches in his throat at the acknowledgement that he has never heard her say his real name and he grips the bed at the thought of her doing so in a whispering tone.

He shifts his weight too at the thought of Jumin’s tongue. Of Jumin singing his praises. Of sinking onto Jumin’s cock while Nari’s hair splays across the pillows and she reaches out to steal a kiss. 

He realises that he craves them in ways that he has never before craved anyone. He wants them both at the same time; to sit on his knees and wrap his lips around Jumin’s cock, all while Nari runs her lips across his spine. He wants to bury his face between her thighs while she strokes his hair and reminds him how utterly amazing he is at everything he does. He wants Jumin to come in his mouth; he wants to know what he tastes like.

Rika never knew that he slept naked. She never shared his bed, nor did she ever take off her clothes in his presence and in truth, it bothered him only briefly. He is needy for these two in ways that are new to him. Ways that leave him sliding his free hand along the contours of his body as he grinds his hips into the mattress.

He’s close. So close. It won’t take much to finish him off. Jihyun grabs hold of the bed sheets and moans so loudly that he is grateful he lives alone in a somewhat secluded area. There is no one to hear his hisses and moans and the shifting of his body against the springs. 

He arches his back and throws back his head, moaning insistently as his climax hits him like a tidal wave. It’s not the first time that he’s touched himself and the urgency is both all-encompassing and familiar. He gasps for air, feeling cum seep through his fingers and straight across his abdomen as he trembles. 

It’s not the best orgasm he’s ever had, but even so, he finds himself staring at the ceiling, almost entirely overwhelmed and feeling as if the bones have been removed from his body. When he does move, it’s to take a shower and strip the sheets from his bed. He’s not sure what time it is and the fact that he does not look at his clock is entirely deliberate.

He wanders his empty apartment. He pours a single glass of wine.

And he is content to say nothing of the fact that he desires Jumin and Nari in every sense of the term on the occasions he wants them at all.


End file.
